


lost in the moment (and get lost)

by like_squid_ink



Series: sunny day in a rainy town [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Accidental Death, Child Neglect, Ghosts, Gothic, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Memory Loss, Not Really Character Death, Piano, She comes back, That's right babey, sunny day in a rainy town
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:40:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27496582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/like_squid_ink/pseuds/like_squid_ink
Summary: She pressed down on one of the keys, dusty (which couldn’t be right, it couldn’t have been that long since she last played), and winced. It was out of tune. She would tune it but…...she never learned how, did she? Her mother had promised to teach her, just a few nights ago, but she still wasn’t back. Back from where? Her head hurt. She didn’t know anything. She didn’t remember anything.She was in her house. In her room. The sun was almost set and she could feel the cold start to seep in.(Or, a girl is finally free.)
Series: sunny day in a rainy town [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2009446





	lost in the moment (and get lost)

**Author's Note:**

> yo yo yo it's ya bitch  
> I wrote this to distract from the seemingly impending doom that was the 2020 US Election, but now that's over, so we're here.  
> This is part of a bigger series, meaning I'll be posting other stories related to this one whether you like it or not

It was dusk. She looked out her window, the only one left intact in the house, and watched the sun set. It moved slowly, lazily painting the sky, almost like it refused to make way for the moon.

They weren’t home, her parents. She didn’t quite remember why. She knew her father was off bragging about any number of things, but she hadn’t the slightest clue for where her mother was. Regardless, she was alone in the house, the house that stood proud and tall despite the residents. Proud and tall, unlike her.

She’d always been a meek thing, hadn’t she? From the moment she was born, crying nonstop for days. Even now, she was crying, wasn’t she? It was hard to tell if the warmth sliding down her cheeks was from tears. Maybe it was the sun giving one last kiss. She smiled, wouldn’t that be nice? To be looked after something as warm as that. Maybe she would have been, if she were born in a warmer place. Alas, as things would have it, her town only ever seemed to know cold days and rain.

Thinking of it, this was actually a special night. Not a cloud in the sky to cover the brilliant colors of the sunset. Lively and dancing, a stark contrast to the slow sun they followed after. Not one single raindrop. Hell, call it a stretch, but she’d even say it was warm out. 

With the window closed, she couldn’t really tell for sure. Her room had always been the warmest in the house, and always more inviting than the outdoors. Whether it was because of how often it was closed off or if there was some spell over it, she wasn’t one to say. Much to her father’s dismay, she had always been interested in things like magic. She was a fan for things that were a bit brighter than reality.

He.

He wasn’t.

She took in a sharp breath. She wasn’t under his gaze now. For the moment, she was a child of the sun, for as long as the dusk lasted. A frown dug into her face and she squashed a putrid thought before it could even surface.

_ ‘Wouldn’t it be nice if the sun looked after me forever?’ _

Of course not. Her father wanted the best for her and her mother, wherever the latter may be. He just wanted a successful family. He was kind to shake her from her fantasies. He was right, always. 

Reading was a fool’s pastime.

Music would get a frail girl like her nowhere.

She didn’t have time for luxuries such as tea or breakfast.

It was better for her to stay in her room and work. Work on what? 

What was she doing, anyways?

Her door was closed. No, her door was locked. Was it, really? But she didn’t lock it. She didn’t even have the key. She must have been mistaken, then. 

  
But, no, standing up and walking to the door, trying to turn the knob, being met with a resilient  _ click _ , meant that the door was locked.

Oh.

The girl, playing with her hair and messing with the elaborate hairstyle she’d put together to distract herself ( _ from what, from what _ ), made her way back to the window and sat down. 

At the very least, he’d let her keep the piano-

_ ‘No he didn’t, mother snuck it in _ ’

-and she could practice-

_ ‘Only when he’s away’ _

-to stay calm. 

She pressed down on one of the keys, dusty ( _ which couldn’t be right, it couldn’t have been that long since she last played _ ), and winced. It was out of tune. She would tune it but…

...she never learned how, did she? Her mother had promised to teach her, just a few nights ago, but she still wasn’t back. Back from where? Her head hurt. She didn’t know anything. She didn’t remember anything.

She was in her house. In her  _ room _ . The sun was almost set and she could feel the cold start to seep in. 

_ Not yet _ , her heart cried,  _ don’t return me to him yet _ . As always, she ignored it.

She was sitting in front of her piano. Her hair was brown, although it had taken on a blue-ish tint recently. No, not recently, it had been years since its warmth started fading. Her skin was pale. What else did she know? What else could she know?

What was her name? She felt as if she didn’t want to remember. It itched, it scratched at her mind whenever she tried to. She knew it not too long ago. 

…

How long had it been? How long was she in her room, trapped by a locked door and a locked win-

Wait.

Her eyes turned to the window, staring at the reflection of a stranger. She scanned the glass and frame, her soul lighting up again. Standing up, almost kicking away her stool, she ran her hands over the window, patting it down at every corner and crevice. Something sparked in her eyes.

There was no lock on the window. 

_ There was no lock on the window _ .

Was there a hinge? Colorful spots danced in her vision, when was the last time she ate? Not important, she needed to focus,  _ she needed to focus _ . 

The window had a hinge, rusty and creaky from lack of use. Noise wasn’t an issue right now, not with everybody out and gone. Gone to who knows where. 

She rolled up her sleeves, almost wincing at the bony things she called arms, and started to push on the window. It refused to give, dust and dirt coating the edges and sealing any air pockets. Her breath fogged the glass as she huffed, her frail structure making itself known in this losing battle against the window. She was so close,  _ she was so close. _

A creak. She nearly fell back in surprise. The window did creak just no, didn’t it? 

Her effort were not for naught.

She scrambled back up and heaved her whole body against the window, making a strained noise as her weight pressed against the dirty glass. Another creak, tiny as it may be, made her heart soar with delight.  _ So close so close so close _ -

The window finally,  _ finally _ , gave under the pressure and began to slowly, surely swing open. The girl stumbled back, trying to catch both her balance and breath. The muscles on her arms stung, and the real, actual air was much colder than she remembered, but she’d done it. 

She...she could go. Leave. She could run, towards the sunset, and never once look back. 

She tenderly slipped on a pair of shoes, worn down from endless pacing, and a shawl. Shrugging the thin fabric over her shoulders, she once again approached the window.

A spider crawled into the room, its web broken, the remnants of it flying in the wind off the side of the window. She couldn’t hold back a small smile, cracking through her porcelain cheeks. One goes in, another comes out, is that it?

Watching the spider - a rather small thing, skittering around for a new place to call home - the girl softly laughed and stepped a foot in the sill. Grabbing the edges of the walls, she pulled herself up and forward, losing her footing and stumbling right onto the roof. She gasped, sharp and frightened, and clinged onto the window sill for dear life. 

A small breath, a huff of air, escaped her, and she was calmed by the fog that replaced it. It was nearly dark out, now.

Finding her footing again, she stood up tall, letting go of the window and stepping forward. 

It had rained the night before. In fact, that’s what had made the sunny day all the more special. 

The girl had never been out in the rain. Never stepped in puddles, never slipped on the sidewalk. In theory, of course, she knew that a rain shower would leave things wet in its wake. But she didn’t quite know how long things  _ stayed _ that way.

It had rained the night before, and all the sunshine had done nothing to dry the house.

And taking a step forward, finally free, the girl lost her footing once more on wet stone

and fell.

**Author's Note:**

> validation would be nice but also commenting is super stressful for me so i getcha i getcha  
> The next story is of a girl who doesn't know what to do.
> 
> And now, back to your mildly scheduled hotwings content.


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